The Warning
by jowa504
Summary: Francis of Nond, a page who died long ago in the Sweating Sickness epidemic, returns to issue a warning to his former friends. Roger of Conte is trying to come back from the dead...again.


Chapter 1

"So, between the reports from Myles and Daine, I think it's safe to say we can start bringing more of the troops back from the North. Let's do a phased withdrawal to prevent any surprises, but keep supplies steady so the villages in the area can continue to rebuild," King Jonathon of Tortall told his most trusted advisors.

"And the King's Own?" One of his top commanders and warriors, Raoul, asked him.

"Deploy them as you see fit. Buri, make sure there are a couple of Rider groups throughout the region as well."

Alanna, known around the world as The Lioness and the King's Champion, got out of her seat and stretched. "All sounds good to me. Now who's up for some lunch?"

As the council all got up to leave, Numair, one of the most powerful mages in the world, held his hand in the air. "Wait. Nobody move. Something doesn't feel right."

"What is it, Numair?" Gary asked.

Just then, there was a deafening roar as a hole seemed to rip in the air in the middle of the room. A faint, small blond figure appeared, and began to speak.

"My name is Francis, "the figure said. "I died in the Sweating Sickness epidemic in the year 443 HE. I've come with a warning from the Realm of the Dead. Roger Conte is trying to come back…again."

Alanna, never being one at a loss for words (even when confronted with the dead) recovered from her initial shock and asked, "Roger? Now what does he want?"

"To take over Tortall and create an empire that spans the continent."

"But how? Is there a living mage helping him? Like….like Thom did?"

"No," the figure, the ghost of the boy Francis who had died when Alanna, Jon, and the others were pages, replied. "He is on his own this time. He wants to rely only on himself. Thom was not strong enough for him last time." Alanna made a disbelieving noise as he continued, "When a person dies and moves on to the next world, their soul retains a glimmer of their Gift, for without it, an essential part of their soul would be lost and thus incomplete. Their soul would fall apart and be unable to make it to the next realm. Roger learned this during his first stay in the Realm of the Dead, and made provisions for it should he fail twice. The moment he returned to my realm, he started to use what he learned and began to collect these last vestiges of the Gift from the dead to rebuild his own power, ruining their souls to restore his. He has become strong; strong enough to cross back over soon. I was sent here by the Goddess as a warning and for the chance to help avenge my own death that Roger caused. But I cannot stay long. Prepare any way you can, for it is Tortall he will try to conquer first. Good luck my friends. May Mithros and the Goddess be with you."

And he vanished, leaving the people in the room to look at each other, for once totally speechless.

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Down in the practice courts, Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small and currently on leave from her post as commander of the refugee camp New Hope, sat on a fence with some of her friends watching the new pages train with the lance.

"Thank Mithros I never have to use on of those again," Nealan of Queenscove, called Neal by his friends, remarked.

"Not that you could lift a lance anymore anyway. So how are they doing?" Kel casually asked Merric, who had been home longer than she had and had a younger cousin training as a page.

They, of course, not being the pages as a whole but the two new girl pages, the first since Kel had become a knight.

"Alright," he said, "not as big as you, but apparently holding their own."

Even though Kel did not have the gift so there was no chance of her helping the new girls magically (as it was rumored Lady Alanna would try to do for her), she still had not had much contact with the girls as a result of both lack of time being in the north most of the year and of prudence. She had been able to talk to them at the beginning of the year and she knew Eda Bell, the Shang Wildcat and one of their instructors, would also be keeping an eye on them as she had done for Kel. Kel held her breathe as Marianne, the older of the two, galloped toward the pintain. Oh! A general groan went up from the pages and those watching as the sandbag hit the girl particularly hard in the back, knocking her forward in her saddle. As Marianne rode over to Catherine, the younger of the girls, back in line, she glanced over her shoulder at Kel before quickly looking away.

"I'm making them nervous, aren't I?"

"Oh no not at all," Neal drawled, "I mean, you still intimidate me most of the time."

"Oh shut your mouth, Meathead!" Kel yelled as she punched Neal a little harder than necessary in the shoulder.

"Ouch! That hurt! Though I'll have you know the use of my immature, childhood name has no effect on my psyce. I expect better from, Madame Lady Knight," he added with a flourish and a ridiculous attempt at bowing from atop a fence.

"Please don't kill yourself in front of these pages. That wouldn't make us look very good would it?" Kel told him wryly.

"Oh no Kel," Owen, finally a knight in his own right, said proudly. "As a knight, you always look good."

"The ladies, well, men in some cases," Merric added with a salute to Kel, "love us."

"Ah, the joys of knighthood." Owen said with a sigh.

Kel grunted in response and continued to watch the young pages drill as Catherine took her turn.

After another few stolen glances from two wide pairs of eyes and a "Page Riverside and Page Galin, if you want to stare at the knights all day that's fine with me, but don't expect to become one anytime soon!" from Ha Minchi, the page trainer, the young knights decided to head back to their rooms before leaving that night to go out into the city. As they turned to leave, Neal saw a large figure headed their way.

"Well, if it isn't the old brute himself! Oi! Raoul! How's it going?" Neal shouted as he waved at Raoul

"Something's wrong," Kel said, concerned.

"What? How do you know?" Merric asked her, squeezing his eyes together as he looked at Raoul walking briskly towards the four of them.

"Have you ever seen Raoul with that look on his face? He almost looks….afraid of something."

"Raoul? Naw. Fear and "Goldenlake the Giant Killer" don't exactly go hand in hand," Owen said heartedly.

But as he got closer, the men could see Kel was right. Once he reached the group, Raoul looked around them as if expecting an ambush any second. He told them in a low voice, "We've got a big problem. Can't say anything more here. King wants to see all of you in his office. Now."

"Us? Why?"

"Raoul, what's going on?"

"To be honest, we don't really know what's going on. But he wants to talk to you all. Just go. He's waiting."

"But-"

"No Owen, he'll explain."

As duty took over curiosity, the four knights turned reluctantly and started to trot towards the castle as Raoul went to the King's Own barracks.

A/N: Hey yall, I'm new around here (as a writer that is). I'm not really sure where I'm going with this story and really need to reread SOTL since its probably been years since I read that quartet and I need to get Roger back in my mind. I posted this first chapter now to see if there was any interest or any suggestions people had for someone just starting the writing process/this story in particular. Thanks a lot! Oh also if anyone knows the actual names of the girls who talked to Kel during Squire that would be great.


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